Page 63 of Shadows and Flames
Dancing with Elián.
The notion was ridiculous. Absurd. And yet, his hand was in mine, and his feet were moving along with my march into the center of the crowd. Not too close to the music so that all conversation was lost, but not so far on the edges that we weren’t immersed.
If I had to think about it,allowedmy mind to sift through the vault of memories, I would more clearly visualize when last I’d done this. Danced in a tavern with someone I cared for.
I stopped and took a bracing breath as I finally turned to Elián.
Instead of the scowl I halfway expected from him, he approached me tentatively. Tenderly, with slow steps eliminating the distance between us.
He palmed my lower back, encouraging me closer. And of course, I reacted body, mind, and soul to my all-encompassing need for him. My arms reached up, sifting past his hair to clasp behind his neck.
Elián began to move. It was gradual, a few pulses of each leg, back and forth. But even that was enough to shift the formwe created together, swaying us from side to side. Eventually, as the music around us continued on in joyous rhythm, he began to move his hips. Mine followed.
El looked down at me, not hiding a thing as he pulled out this very moment from what IwishedI’d dreamt of.
When I’d visualized a reunion with my Shadow, I’d envisioned harsh words, punishment. At the very least, more groveling on my part.
But El was… kind. And fun?
“You never told me that you knew how to dance.”
“Mm,” he hummed while I ran the tips of my fingers along the nape of his neck. “There is much you do not know about me. Nor I you.” And if to emphasize his point, he did something with the tension between us, leading my hips in a circle then back to his before resuming our swaying.
“But your brother knows these things,” I accused. I’d no right to be jealous of the fact they had a whole language between them that I didn’t know. But no one would accuse me of being unflinchingly sensible.
That brow made its familiar climb toward his hairline, and his hands shifted along my spine. “Not everything.”
I’d no idea what to say to that, so I kept on glaring while allowing Elián to lead the dance between us, the circles of our hips.
“We can play your game again. Your questions.”
My questions? “How many rounds of five questions will it take for me to know everything about you, then?”
Those dimples made an appearance, and his eyes shifted in color, growing a bit richer. “As many times as it takes. And I will do the same for you.”
As long as it takes… there it was again. The assurance that this thing was going to last.
I slid my hands around his shoulders, down to his chest, and rested them there. My right held the minuscule pulse of his heart. “How many years were you when you got your fangs?”
“Fourteen years. And you?”
“Twelve.” Elián used his grip on me to spin me around, to hold his front to my back. The lights in the tavern were dim but more than bright enough for me to see the reverie around us. The few interested or hungry glances flung our way.
Elián danced us like this, and goddess, I followed, eyelids lowering until I’d almost shut out the world. Anything that wasn’t his body or his scent or his voice. I was cloaked in burning oak and cinnamon, and as if the crackle of flame, Elián’s question was quiet yet clear as he whispered, “Your favorite food?”
“Um…” I swallowed, and the answer that came out of my mouth was something I hadn’t tasted since Maman was alive. “My mother would make a…cake for special occasions. It had fruit soaked in wine and would come out of the oven black as coal.” I let my answer hang in the air, twine with the melodies around us, before volleying back, “And yours?”
Elián leaned his cheek against my temple, thinking and dancing with me, until he quietly gave me his answer. “The breakfast I made you. My mother would make it for Leandro and me often.”
My breath hitched, but before I could stumble our coordinated steps, El spun me around again, right on beat, until I crashed back into his chest. He held me to him, now both arms wrapped around me.
“What doyouwant from this? From us.”
As if he knewthatparticular question would make me stumble, El slowed our bodies down to a sensuous sway, one with our feet planted on the floor.
He’d said he just wantedme.No—that and mylove. How did I make him understand that he was already giving me what I wanted? I bit at my lip before answering as honestly as I could. “You. I want you and…” I dared, voice cracking, “peace.”
And hopefully he’d be willing to give it when I told him the secret nearly dripping from my lips.
